Drowning
by SaberTail
Summary: I wanted to explore my headcanon of Tails having a huge crush on Sonic, and him keeping it a secret. One-sided, Aged-Up Sontails.
1. Molasses

You wonder a lot what would happen if he were more attentive. You think you're really obvious with it all (Except maybe not because no one else notices either) because all the emotions swirling around inside you are always ready to just fall out of you. You would probably feel better if they did. If all those feelings just came pouring out like water. Or more like molasses. That's what they feel like anyway. Sticky, heavy, gross. You should say something.

But you don't.

But you won't.

You wonder if there are others that feel that way. You tell yourself there must be, because that's better than the alternative. People fall for their best friends all the time, right? But those people are blushing girls who end up happy. Who end up with children and families and happy.

You wish you were a girl sometimes now. Which is strange because you still hate it when people point out that you look the part, and even stranger when you think about the time you would never even think about that. But you still wish it. In the back of your mind, when you feel the loneliest. Then you'd have a chance at least. A chance with the savior of the world? Maybe. Sonic likes you as a friend at least. He tells you you aren't as worthless as you think you are sometimes. Which is nice. But you're a guy. Fortunately. Unfortunately. It doesn't matter too much. It is what is and you don't have a chance with your best friend. Even if he thinks you aren't worthless.

Sonic being the savior of the world is the other problem. People know who he is, and while you don't really care what the world thinks, (Or really you do. You care that they don't notice you. You care that you're still invisible.) Sonic does. Sonic really does. And what would the papers say if you too were together? That's why he runs away from Amy. He's afraid of the rumors. No one knows that except you, which you consider to be a loss and a victory at the same time. You know things about him that no one else does, but if he's that uncomfortable with dating a girl, well then dating you would be laughable. (It is. Not 'would be'. Is.)

Sometimes it's nice to pretend though. (You really shouldn't) Until it isn't. Because Sonic will let you lie on his shoulder sometimes when he's in a good mood, and all the sticky grossness becomes light and fluffy, because you can see it. You lying here is nice. How it should be. How it really, really shouldn't. But you can see it. How you could be. Together. Lying here comfortably. Just enjoying the closeness, but truly _together _in some secret weird way. You want to feel it rather than just see it. But what you want is like a museum piece. Look. Don't touch. You move a little closer, and he doesn't flinch away. Then a little closer. A… little… closer. "You okay buddy? You're being a little clingy tonight."

"Oh… uh. Sorry." You back off, and you feel even more disgusting. You're taking advantage, and you wonder what exactly is wrong with you. Because it really is disgusting, and not just cause you feel it is. That's the third and final nail in the coffin. It's just… wrong. Illegal even. You're seventeen. He's twenty-three. If you pursued him you could get Sonic thrown in jail. (You wonder if they actually could do that. Sonic has saved the world more times than he can even count. They don't even try to pull him over for speeding anymore.) Not to mention the disapproving glares you can imagine in your friends eyes. Furious, disappointed, disgusted. Amy would never talk to you again. Would that really be that bad? You always thought Amy was nice enough, but she was the first person you were jealous of, because she could say anything she wanted and you just couldn't. It was her that made you realize actually. Jealousy was the first thing you felt when you saw that you… that you wanted something more with Sonic, and you've always been a little resentful that she opened your eyes. (You really would be better off ignorant.)

It's sad really, because he still really does care. Like now. He gets up from his comfortable spot on the couch, and tousles the fur on your head when he gets too you. "You sure you're okay, buddy?"

You nod, but don't meet his gaze, so he frowns. "Stop lying." And you feel that heavy weight again, sticking to you like maple syrup. You are lying, so much, and to your best friend, someone who you've literally trusted with your life before. So why not this? He's frowning still, and he looks a little lost. Not really sure how to help. That just makes you feel worse. But you hope pass it off as nothing, or at least distract him enough to escape.

"I'm fine." You don't sound like you're choking but you feel like it. "I'm just going to hang out in my room for a bit. Read a little." You smile. (You hope it isn't as fake as it feels). You're still choking, suffocating on this heavy weight. He looks away, letting you go, mercifully. Books, projects, mechanics make you feel a little better. They put the feelings in the corners of your mind. Where you don't have to pay attention to them. Where you don't have to examine them. It's not as good as when you get close to him. Then the things that weigh you down disappear, because you can pretend. (You really shouldn't) You shouldn't because those come with the side-effects that you have to go up to your room and read to get away from. The choking, the drowning. (If you let it all come pouring out, like water, only not, like molasses, would you feel better? Would you stop drowning?)


	2. Sunlight and Shadows

**A/N: **I liked this so much that I just sort of… kept writing it. So new chapter.

* * *

"I brought you some food." He cares too much really, but you open the door and thank him. He'll tell you you have to eat if you don't, and that logic you can't argue with. He's smiling when you open the door, and has this ring of light around him (Angels are a ridiculous concept you tell yourself).

"Dude why are you sitting in the dark?"

"What…?" You really hadn't noticed. Was it really that late? You forget sometimes when you're focused. "I… uh… didn't notice. Busy and all." He pulls you forward, into the light, and the brightness stings your eyes. His hand is warm in yours, even underneath the two layers of fabric. Your gloves and his. "Come on man. Eggman decided to rear his ugly head again."

"What?" You reply. You're still dazed by the lights, and it's hard to focus now too while your adjusting. (To the lights and the feeling in your throat when you get this close to him.)

"Eggman decided that he wanted to take over the world again. Or something. Set himself up in the middle of the ocean this time, like that ever really stops us. You'd think he'd remember the Tornado exists once in a while, y'know?"

You finally get a handle on yourself. "Geniuses sometimes look over the finer details." You shrug a little.

"Well, you don't and you're the smartest person I know." The compliment tingles, and your legs feel a little wobbly. He hasn't let go of your hand. He drags you forward again. "C'mooooon man. I don't like Egghead getting cocky. That's my job."

"Alright, alright already. I'll be right there just let me grab some stuff." The laugh that laces your voice is easy. It's typical Sonic, and typical Sonic makes things easy.

You remember when you're flying the plane that typical Sonic is what really scares you. If there wasn't the age difference, or the fact that you're a guy, or his fame you still wouldn't pursue. Because while the concept of typical Sonic doesn't really frighten you, the idea of losing it does. The relaxed laughter, the more sensitive moments, the friendship. You don't want to ruin that. You don't want to make him hate you. Or worse, make it awkward. Make him tiptoe around feelings he'd never return. So you slink back into the darkness, with feelings that make you think there adhesives in your fur, and maybe in your lungs too. (You wish you could breathe.) They feel wrong, but you drag them into the shadows, because you don't want him to hate you. And you definitely don't want him to treat you like a freak. (You've already been there done that.)

"Are we there yet?" This is the fifteenth time he's asked, and this time you finally answer with a yes. He wasn't looking, but you're used to being the eyes in the sky, so it's easy to spot all the red and orange even from such a huge height. You take the plane down. A small knot of nerves forms in your stomach. It always does, because this is always dangerous, even if a wicked smile is already starting to form on Sonic's face. He's off the plane before you even land.

You take in the surroundings, and you suddenly feel that maybe Sonic had a point about Eggman being a little stupid. His base rests on an island. A large one. Was he actually trying to do damage anymore? You think that he probably isn't or he would've built something truly out in the middle of the ocean. Something more threatening.

Sonic is already in there, tearing through Eggman's throwaway bots better than you ever could, so you decide to stay in the plane. You leave the engine on just enough for a speedy escape, because that's the kind Sonic likes, and the one who he usually aims for. And you wait.

The explosion rings in your ears. It's huge. The shockwave slams into you and makes your ears pop. You snap your fingers to make sure your ears still work properly. You're fine, but he isn't. As you hurry to get the plane back into the air, you see him in the sky, falling, falling, falling. You will the plane to move faster, all while watching his trajectory. Finally you're up in the air just in time to see him slide across the sand. You wonder if it would've been better if he had hit the water, but all previous evidence says Sonic and water just don't miss, so you figure (you hope) the sand was for the best.

You get in closer. Your strong nose picks up the smell of burning fur and blood, and you suddenly feel like you're drowning again. Except this time it is water. It flows so quickly into your lungs. It's panic. You aren't used to this. The suffocation you're used to is slow and painful, but at least it's familiar. This is just panic. Fast. Much too fast. The speed of it rushes you toward him. Toward his body flat on the ground. Toward the smell of burning fur. (His burning fur.) You see him unconscious, you feel how slack his body is and the water flows faster. Deeper deeper deeper. Into the water.

He awakens and suddenly you're reaching toward the light. Desperately. Because he almost died! And you can see the sunshine flitting through the water you're drowning in. You can grab it if you reach high enough. You reach. You stretch. You grab him. (You grab something that resembles him, because the limp body in your hands can't really be Sonic.) "I love you." And as soon as you whimper those words you start crying because you don't feel like you're drowning anymore. You cry from the feeling of relief. "I love you." You say it again and you sob more. It just feels so good. (All that weight lifted.)

But he doesn't get it. He looks up at you and repeats what you just said. (Except that he really doesn't.) "I love you too, buddy." His voice is weak. He coughs. You're scared. Terrified, and he doesn't get it.

"No no. I love you." He needs to get it. Now. But instead he mumbles and drifts back into unconsciousness. You slink back to the darkness immediately, because not only has he not gotten it, but you're wasting precious time. He's dying and you're confessing your love. He needs a hospital, and you just want him to know what you feel.

* * *

The fly back is a blur, because time flies when you're panicking, when you're drowning in an unfamiliar feeling of rushing water, and because you push the Tornado more than you ever have. The engine is sputtering by the time you land by the nearest hospital.

You run through the emergency door, yelling to anyone who will listen that Sonic the Hedgehog has been hurt, and nurses rush out to meet you, taking him out of your hands. (Were you carrying him? Didn't he used to be heavier?) You don't follow when they speed him down the hall. You know you would just get in the way. You slump against the first thing you see, suddenly your exhausted, because your best friend almost died, and you told him, and he didn't get it, and you wasted time. His time. So you slump down in a chair and you sniffle for a little while, (You're not sure if you were crying the whole time) until the exhaustion pulls you under.

You're shaking. Someone is shaking you awake.

"W-wha…?"

"You're Miles Prower right? Sonic's emergency contact?"

"Uh… yes. I am. Is he awake?" You gather enough coherent thought to ask that question.

"Yep! But be a bit gentle with him, hun. All the pain killers have made him a bit loopy."

She's right. You're not sure what he's on, but his reactions are slow and his eyes keep closing. "Hey…" This time you sound like your choking. At least that matches how you feel.

"Hey…" He sounds worse than he looks. (You tell yourself he doesn't look that bad. Considering.)

"How are you feeling?"

"Bad. Really bad."

You nod. You don't really feel that great either.

* * *

A couple days later. He's back to typical Sonic. Well, almost. In pain Sonic is typical Sonic but a bit more irritable.

A week after that. Remarkably, unfortunately, he gets it. He wakes up from a nap and he suddenly gets it. "Wait wait. When you said you loved me… did you mean? I mean was that a confession? I was sort of… well not dying, but that wasn't the best situation."

You had been reading in the dark, by the light of a small LED device. He usually was knocked completely out at two in the morning, but lately his sleeping patterns were weird. (Everyone cuts him slack about that. Almost dying sort of grants some slack.) You dog ear the page. You splutter. "Uh…" Suddenly you're burning under a spotlight, under his gaze.

"Well…?"

"N-no of course not. You were sort of…" You don't want to say 'near death' even though you think he probably was. (Neither of you like the idea of Sonic the Hedgehog dying.) "You were in danger. I panicked. (What are you doing?) I mean… I do love you, but… you're my best friend. It's different." (What are you doing?)

"I love you too." The sentence sounds strange as it slides from his mouth. Forced.

You nod, and switch off the light, sinking yourself completely into darkness.


	3. Gravity, Masks, and Small Steps

**A/N: **Third and Final Chapter

* * *

It's nice to have typical Sonic back at the house. Except he isn't still. He's not 'in pain' Sonic either. (You try not to think about how you sort of wish it was). You're not sure what's different, (That fact scares you) but something is. There's a weight in the air, like extra gravity. It hangs around the entire house. You feel wrong somehow. More than you usually do anyway. (Still drowning. Slowly again. At least you're used to it you tell yourself.) Less motivated too. More projects go unfinished, and you worry for a while if there is something seriously wrong with you.

A trip to the doctor not only makes you feel better, but gives you no results. A man with a Ph.D tells you you're fine and you hurry home. You step through the threshold and the weight is back on your shoulders. A trip to pick up groceries confirms that the house is definitely the problem. It sounds different. It feels different. He's usually more vibrant, more active. He used to burst into the workshop all smiles, sometimes singing even.

You drag Sonic along to the grocery store. That confirms that he is definitely the problem. (Though really, you're a smart fox. You knew that before you'd gotten proof.)

He's a good actor actually. One of his weird skills. Because he stills laughs, and gives you noogies, and makes jokes, and complains about your cooking even though he secretly loves it. He acts like what your used too. Or tries, but the second time you catch his gaze lingering on you (he's quick to look away) you see that he's _tiptoeing_. Tiptoeing around you. Around your feelings.

You haven't fooled him for a second. He can see right through the flimsy excuses you tried to put up.

You catch him gazing a third time, (you feel his eyes on you more often than that) and the sudden weight pulls an apology from your lips before you can even think about what you're saying

"For what?"

You drag yourself off the couch. "You know what." He doesn't try to stop you when you lock yourself in your room, but his act is more strained for the next week. His mask slips. Then cracks. Then crumbles to the ground. (You think it's pulled off by the pressing burden that's been hanging over the household.)

He comes home one night, (You're not sure from where. You've never questioned his excursions before and you won't now) and just starts flat out avoiding you. A week later he leaves. You just wake up and he's gone. You aren't concerned at first. He does this all the time. He has to get out of the house to run, or he goes a little crazy. After the sixth day though, you think 'he won't come back' _one_ time and then you can't get the thought out of your head. You get less sleep (Nightmares), you eat less (stomachaches), and you work constantly (Your best reprieve).

You're so mad when he finally returns that you leave, slamming the door in a huff behind you. Then you feel stupid, and run back into the house, into his arms, bawling. You yell at him through tears, telling of the fears that circled around in your head like buzzards. He apologizes, sincere and quiet, but even then he doesn't hold you too long. The distance forms again. The weight presses on you from all sides.

You keep catching stray gazes. He says he's sorry each time you do. You never ask him why. You tell yourself you don't need to, you tell yourself it's because you already know why, but in truth the possible answers scare you. (He's wishing you were back to normal, he pities you, he calls you names inside his head.)

Every time he apologizes he does seem genuinely sorry. He stares right into your eyes, says his little apology, and then looks away, ashamed of himself. (The glimpses you get of his eyes show it, clear as day). He stopped acting like your feelings don't exist. That mask is now dust, but when he looks at you that way you can't help but wonder if he has two. One that he always used when things were falling apart, and another one. One saved in case of an emergency. When things were already on the ground, shattered like glass.

Around friends, Sonic pieces everything back together. So around Amy you're friends, and around Knuckles you are best buds, taking on the world together. But Sonic cannot cover this up, it's too big. (You are a terrible actor, which doesn't help much). So friends skeptical looks, turn into casual questions turn into lies, turn into shaking heads when they can't get genuine answers out of the hedgehog.

Less time with friends, leads to more caught stares. You aren't sure why. His mask falters more. You like that, even if it seems wrong. He looks genuine when it happens, which is rare these days. His visage slides off more and more until it slips to the ground with a loud… crash! Literally. You catch him staring while he's dishing up food onto a plate. He doesn't glance away. He just keeps staring. His eyes are wide, startled things. You consider it some sort of weird progress until the plate explodes into a million pieces on the floor.

You rush to get a broom, grumbling about idiocy under your breath. It isn't much to sweep and you're thankful you both wear shoes around the houses. He's isn't watching you anymore, the plate snapped him out of that pretty quick. He's sitting on one of the counter tops, something you reprimand him about regularly, and staring at the floor like there is some answer to all this… strangeness, this seemingly backward way of living, etched into the tiles.

He coughs when you dump the shards into the trash. You look up expecting him to say something, explain himself at least. He doesn't say a word. You shrug internally and move to grab your own meal. He drums his fingers against the counter. Then sighs. "I miss you… a lot."

You haven't left recently, so it sort of feels weird to say, but you get it. "Yeah… I miss you too."

"I'm sorry I bailed a couple weeks ago. That was… wrong."

"It's fine." It isn't really, because he won't talk to you, and he keeps staring at you, and you miss each other even though you live in the same house. He laughs actually, a brief chuckle with no real humor, because he's probably thought what you just did. Because things haven't been 'fine' for quite a while.

"I… I was really confused, that's why I took off. I still am, I guess."

Confused. You were expecting anger, but confusion makes sense. "You aren't sure how to feel about me, huh? About what I feel." If he wants to talk about this, you figure it's best too. He looks a little surprised by such a direct response, but you've already accepted this is necessary. (You're both exhausted of dancing around the subject. Of missing each other when you sleep a room apart)

He opens his mouth again. It hangs open. He jumps off the counter suddenly. He shakes his head and sighs. "This is so messed up." You don't want to hear that. You already know what you're feeling is wrong, hearing it from him just makes you feel worse.

"I know. I'm sorry." Apologizing is all you can do. You've tried to change your feelings in the past, multiple times, and it still hasn't worked.

"Don't. That's not… t-that's not what I meant…" Every word is a battle, it seems. It's very clear he's regretting this conversation. A conversation that hasn't even happened yet. Is this it? Is he going to abandon you? Your worst nightmares always said he would. (At least he doesn't want too. That might make it hurt less.)

"Are confused about how…? Why? Well, I can't really say either." Not without a list that's a couple miles long. The way he laughs, the soft touch of his fur (you haven't felt it in a while, but the memory is still fresh, like it's sliding between your fingers right now), the way his ears twitch and wiggle when he's really relaxed, or when he's sleeping. It would go on and on, and you're sure he doesn't want to hear it.

"N-not exactly…" He's drumming his fingers against the cabinets.

"Then what?" You say. Your voice is sounding more defeated as time passes.

He's getting impatient, his feet are tapping, all his nervous ticks are running in full force. He wants to get this over with. You do too.

"It isn't…" He struggles, looks pained even. "You shouldn't… I shouldn't…"

"Shouldn't what exactly…?" (Shouldn't be around you. Shouldn't live with you. Shouldn't abandon you. Shouldn't leave you again.)

He takes a couple steps toward the kitchen door, gets to the frame, shakes his head. "I shouldn't… feel this way about you. I shouldn't… love you like I do. It isn't… right." He grips the frame and looks out into the hall, then too the floor. Anywhere but at you.

You frankly are dumbstruck. Immobilized. But you can still use your voice, so you do. "You… you mean it?"

"Yeah…" He smiles wryly. Then frowns. "But Tails… we… can't. It's wrong. Creepy even." He shakes his head, still refusing to even glance toward you. "Man I'm such a creep."

"Sonic… I don't…"

"You don't really care, and I didn't expect you too. I've seen the way… it's… weird." He insists "It's wrong."

You take a couple steps, still cautious. Still worried that you'll scare him away, that he'll abandon you, like your nightmares say he should. "So…" You take his hand in yours. "We wait a year then?" You try, though you're not really expecting good results.

Finally he looks at you. "That isn't the issue. I don't… want… I don't want to take advantage." You want to laugh when he says it, because that sounds like the silliest idea, but when you see the fear in his eyes, the hesitation, you know this isn't the time for giggles.

"I… I'm asking for this, Sonic. I want to… date you, to be your boyfriend, whatever… as long as you want it too." You take a deep breath, when you see that hasn't helped much. "Look, I know you would never, ever do that."

He hasn't pulled away yet, but he still doesn't look even the slightest bit convinced. "If I hurt you, I'll regret this. I'd blame myself, and I know it."

"And that's how I know. You won't hurt me. You won't take advantage. You care too much about me." He smiles, just a little. He can't deny the truth in the statement.

"I'll still be five years older. It'll be weird. People will think we're weird."

"Does that matter, really?" You shrug. "This doesn't feel weird to me." Your fingers fit perfectly between his actually. "What do you think?" You smile, and he does the same, a little wider. His laugh is subdued behind his closed mouth, and he shakes his head in disbelief

"I can't believe…" He shakes his head more. "I can_not_ believe."

He sighs, then entangles his fingers between yours, securing the bond. He pauses, shakes his head again, groans, and the softly says… "We can…" He swallows. You've never seen him this unsure. Usually he's so cocky, usually he knows exactly what he wants.

"We can try it." You say. He nods, shakily.

"But… slowly?" He asks.

You laugh at the hypocrisy of that, but nod all the same. "Slowly." For now you are comfortable enough holding his hand. You take a deep breath. The air comes in easy.


End file.
